


Morton, Unwin, and McIntire

by frankiesin



Series: discontinued works [26]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Hary Hart Lives, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Kingsman gets a new agent to help find Harry Hart.





	Morton, Unwin, and McIntire

Chapter 1

 

To say that the world went to shit after V Day would be a complete understatement. There was no word in any language that Amythyst knew that could describe the current state of the world. Her adoptive older sister, Gwyn, was constantly moving about, because Gwyn and her husband Nico were dating the son of the United States Secretary of State, and apparently he and his family were in danger and Gwyn and Nico were doing all that they could to keep their boyfriend safe. Amythyst had never met this TJ guy, and she didn't see an introduction happening any time soon, what with the United States president dead and her brother-in-law and sister constantly going over to Washington.

 

Basically, the world as everyone knew it was over and Amythyst was very much alone, and very, very bored. Gwyn had basically told her to stay in the estate until everything calmed down, but Amythyst was not about that life. So she decided that, instead of meandering about Gwyn's estate in the country and getting nothing done, she would go into London and fuck around there. She figured that it might be a bit more interesting that sitting in one place and waiting for any traveling mercenaries to show up. No one was going to show up, because no one wanted to travel. Everyone was too afraid from what had just happened. Everyone feared that there would be another attack.

 

Amythyst was not one of those people, so she took a train down to London and booked a hotel room. She brought one suitcase full of clothes and about thirty thousand pounds, just in case she needed to use any of it. And then she went walking.

 

She ended up on Savile row somehow, even though that was the last place she wanted to be. Amythyst hated the posh people that Gwyn and herself were surrounded by. Gwyn had no problem with flaunting her Scottish brogue around the people of high society England. Gwyn also had no problem acting as though she had been born into money, instead of having to break a few rules to get her inheritance from her father. Amythyst, on the other hand, had adopted her native south London accent a few years ago, and had started dressing like she was just one of the chavs who roamed the south London streets. She swore, she slurred her words together, and she didn't act like she had any money to her name, even though she did now. She didn't feel right in the posh areas of England. She felt like she was lying to everyone around her, and she didn't like it. Nico and Gwyn could do it with no problem, but apparently Amythyst was not meant for the espionage lifestyle that her sister and her sister's husband sported every day of their lives.

 

Amythyst spotted a nice looking tailor shop, and decided to head over there. She liked suits well enough, and a woman who could pull off a suit was a damn good woman.

 

When she walked in, there was no one in the main area, which was quite odd. She poked around for a few minutes, because she swore that she could hear people talking somewhere, but she didn't find anyone. Shrugging, she decided to just fit a suit herself. She knew how to do it, because she had helped Nico with a fitting once, and so she gathered the materials and what looked like a good model suit (she didn't necessarily need a bespoke suit, one off the rack would do just fine for this excursion), and headed to the dressing room with the number three on a gold plaque above the door. A bit over the top for a simple dressing room, but Amythyst should have expected that. This was Savile row. Everything here was over the top. The while British upper class was over the top and often quite unnecessary.

 

She closed the door behind her and hung the suit on a hook. She leaned over to undo her shoes (she had decided to wear a pair of bright pink trainers that day), and began to lose her balance. She frantically reached out with her free hand and caught on to one of the three clothes hooks, which then careened forward, and the wall opened up. Amythyst fell against the wall and onto some tile floor. She let out a small "oof" and pushed her blond hair out of her face. She glared down at her trainers, wondering if Gwyn would kill her for burning the little shits.

 

It was while Anythyst was contemplating pyromancy that she realised what had happened to put her in this situation in the first place. She had pulled on one of the clothing hooks, and the fucking wall had moved inward, like a secret door or something. _That_ was not normal for a tailor shop. Amythyst sat up slowly and turned around, and her aqua eyes widening when she saw what was in front of her. Weapons of every shape and size and in every form imaginable.

 

Amythyst grinned. "Nice."

 

She got up, fixed her trainer, and walked into the room, her eyes raking across all the available options. She grabbed a lighter and pocketed it. She didn't know what exactly it was, but considering that she had found it in a secret room, it was probably something very cool. She also grabbed a pen, because Amythyst had a tendency to collect pens from every place she visited. She had far too many pens but she wasn't about to stop collecting them any time soon. They were nice and convenient and easy to keep track of.

 

"Umbrellas? What the fuck do you do with an umbrella?" Amythyst reached out and grabbed the object in question. She moved it around in her hands, running her sea green nails over the fabric. It was high quality, but something in it felt a bit weird. Amythyst turned it over and felt around for the release, opening the umbrella fully. Immediately, a green tinted screen came up, with an options menu asking for a type of missile. Amythyst grinned. "So this is what the fuck you do with umbrellas. I like these umbrellas."

 

She twisted the handle of the umbrella, scrolling through the options, and settled on one that said BLOW-MINOR. Amythyst pulled the trigger, and a missile shot out. It made contact with the door to the main room of the tailor shop (which Amythyst was sure was not actually a tailor shop and instead was a cover for something) and blew a hole in the door. Amythyst dropped the umbrella to the floor in surprise. "Holy shite!"

 

She picked the umbrella again and started to pull it back down into a more mobile form. It was sticking though, because Amythyst had zero good luck in situations like this, and she swore quite elegantly. She finally got the umbrella to get its shite together, and hooked it on her arm. She still had the pen and the lighter in the back pocket of her skinny jeans, and she was ready to go.

 

"Stop where you are, and remove the umbrella from your arm." Amythyst looked up to see a gorgeous woman pointing a gun at her face from across the room. The woman had dark blonde hair pulled back into a sleek, neat ponytail and was standing amongst the splinters from the door. Her clothes were pristine. "Drop it. Drop it now or I shoot you."

 

"Sorry, luv. I was just looking around." Amythyst smiled at the girl and removed the umbrella from her arm again. She set it on the floor and then, for good measure and to reassure the attractive woman that she wasn't a threat, she took the lighter out of her pocket and gently placed it in the folds of the umbrella. She stood back up to her full height and placed her hands where the woman could easily see them. "If you want me to pay for the things, I'll do it, but I promise you I wasn't trying to blow your door up. That was just an accident."

 

"Step forward, slowly, so I can check you for weapons." The woman was not relaxing. She didn't look at all nervous, even though Amythyst guessed that she was maybe two years older. Amythyst knew that most people didn't jump into the underworld of murder and spies and mercenaries when they were very young. They usually went about doing their normal business until they were in their twenties and down on their luck, and started to look around to see if there were any better options. And while underground work usually paid better than a real life job (Amythyst had never had one of those), it was a lot more dangerous and stressful and terrifying. So that this woman looked composed meant that the Kingsman tailors knew their shit.

 

Amythyst walked towards the weapon. As she did so, three men came down the stairs, all of them with weapons out, all of them dressed rather well. The bald one was in a captain's uniform, and the youngest of the three was bloodied and missing his tie. Amythyst figured that he had lost it in the massacre that had happened only a day before. The three men surrounded her as the woman lowered her weapon and approached Amythyst slowly. Amythyst had nothing on her that was particularly illegal, so she just stood and let the woman direct her on how to dump the contents of everything she had.

 

The youngest man swore when she pulled out the pen. The woman shot him a sharp glare. Amythyst planned to ask them both about the significance of a bloody pen later. Right now she was busy taking out her thirty thousand euros and placing them neatly on the floor beside the pen, as well as a pack of gum and a few spare tampons. Because Amythyst tried to be prepared for any emergency. When she was sure that she had gotten everything but her clothes off of her body, she brushed herself off and gave the woman a bright smile. "Alright, you've got me nice and vulnerable, now how exactly do I go about joining you four in your little spy ring? Because I'm really enjoying the tailor aesthetic you've got going on, and with the world gone to shit, you guys might want a little help, yeah?"

 

"You can't just join, there's a process." The one with dark brown hair said. He had a nice voice, but Amythyst wasn't really into blokes. She never had been. Gwyn hadn't had a problem with it, but then again, Gwyn didn't seem to have a preference of fucking blokes over birds. She was married to Nico because he was the only person who had ever managed to romance her, and because it was a financial advantage for them both. That they also had a son (who was in Washington with Nico's brother), was just an added bonus to everything.

 

Amythyst shrugged. "Not a problem. I can start the process whenever you're ready."

 

"Percival, Galahad--" The bald man said, and the youngest man visibly crumbled at the second name, "--go back upstairs and finish what we were going over. Lancelot and I are going to discuss matters with this young woman."

 

The dark-haired man--Percival, Amythyst assumed--placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder and led him away, not offering any words that might have helped Amythyst to figure out what the hell was going on and why all of these people were named after the Knights of the round table. Once they were gone, the bald man lowered his weapon and motioned for Lancelot to do the same. She gave him a look, like she didn't believe that it was safe to stop holding Amythyst at gunpoint. Amythyst rolled her eyes. "Really, now, you can stop with all the secrecy. I'm not here to fuck shit up, I'm just bored. The whole world went psycho yesterday and my whole family's disappeared to sort their lives out. I don't have shit to do and I'm a bit unnerved at the moment."

 

"Miss, Lancelot was right when we said that there's a process to getting a job here, but like the rest of the world, we are in a dire situation and we are low on available agents." The bald man said, slowly stepping towards Amythyst as he pulled out a clipboard. He started tapping at it with the flesh of his finger, and Amythyst realised that it was some kind of touch screen device. Lancelot was watching him warily, her hand back on her sidearm as she too approached Amythyst, looking at the clipboard over the bald man's shoulder. Something must have appeared on the screen, because her expression changed slightly and she said to the bald man, "Merlin, no. We are not doing this, not behind Eg-- _Galahad's_ \--back. It's not right."

 

"We'll tell agent Galahad about this once he's gotten past the shock." Merlin's voice was stern, final, as he turned the clipboard around for Amythyst to see the screen. There was a man's face on it, as well as a name and the words "last seen in Kentucky with The Assassin; status unknown" under his picture. The man looked to be in his fifties, with perfectly styled brown hair (greying in places), expensive looking glasses, brown eyes, and a glower that Amythyst could feel through the screen. She pointed to the screen. "This my target, then?"

 

"No, this is our previous Galahad. He was shot in the head two days ago, but he is not dead." Merlin swiped across the screen, changing to what looked to be a video of the sky. He pressed the play button at the bottom of the screen and Amythyst watched the sky for about thirty seconds before she heard someone walk towards Galahad. Then the sky was replaced by a black gloved hand and the screen changed to concrete. There was a grunt and the faint sounds of fabric ruffling, another grunt, and then footsteps. There was a crunch and then the visual went to static. Amythyst looked up from the video. "That's all you've got?"

 

"No, I got a glimpse of the person who took Harry." Merlin said, and then flicked the screen to the next page, where a blurry shot from the film showed a face half hidden by the black glove descending down onto Harry's face. Merlin tapped the screen twice and the picture cleared up enough that Amythyst could see the person--her target's--face. Not much was visible save for the target's long white blonde hair and a badly scarred nose. Their eyes were covered by goggles and they had a mask covering the lower half of their face. Amythyst pointed to the screen. " _That's_ my target?"

 

"Yes. She's known as the Assassin. She's been credited with the assassinations of six major political figures in the past ten years alone. From what little we know about her, she works alone and she works efficiently. She doesn't hold her targets, so the fact that she took Harry means that she wants something." Merlin said. Amythyst got the feeling that Merlin knew Harry very well. There was worry in his voice. "You're to leave as soon as you can. I need to brief Lancelot on her mission, and then I will set you up with your weapons and a suit for you to borrow."

 

"Speaking of Lancelot, why am I the one going on this thing?" Amythyst asked. "I mean I know I'm supposed to be proving myself and shit, but why am I going on something so delicate and dangerous? Why not Lancelot, or one of the other agents who actually know Harry? Aren't they a little more qualified than me?"

 

"Yes." Merlin said. He had already started to move on to Lancelot, who was still watching Amythyst with distrust in her hazel eyes. Merlin tapped at his clipboard again, showing the screen to Amythyst. "But unlike Lancelot and the other agents, you are expendable. They, especially now, are not."

 

* * *

  


Chapter 2

 

Amythyst flew to Washington on a plane because she had tracked the Assassin and Harry Hart to the capital of the United States. They were headed towards a nursing home, or at least that's what the tracker on Harry Hart's suit said. Apparently all Kingsman agents had trackers on their suits, so that they could be tracked even if their glasses were compromised. Amythyst appreciated that. It made her job easier.

 

Of course, the Assassin could be driving around with a comatose--or dead--Harry Hart and Amythyst could be walking right into a trap. At least she was armed. At least it was normal to be armed in the United States. At least Americans had become numb to violence. At least most of the United States was crippled from the V Day attacks. Amythyst didn't have to worry about any Americans trying to slow her down. They were too busy trying to fix their own shit. They already had enough damage to deal with.

 

The nursing home was quiet, with only a receptionist in the front lobby. The receptionist gave Amythyst a warm smile as she entered the building and looked up from her phone. Harry Hart was in here somewhere. Amythyst just had to figure out where he was. So she walked up to the receptionist and pulled up the one picture she had of Harry Hart. "Hello, ma'am, I was wondering if you've seen anyone like this recently?"

 

The woman looked down at the photo, her penciled in eyebrows creased in concentration. She looked up at Amythyst again. "Can I know why you're looking for him?"

 

"I'm from MI6. I was told to bring him in." Amythyst said, the lie rolling off of her tongue easily. The receptionist's eyes widened comically and she reached towards the emergency call button. Amythyst stopped her. "There's no need for that. Actually, it's best if you don't tell anyone in this building that I'm here. This man is dangerous, smart. I don't want to give him any kind of warning."

 

"Okay. He's... he went up to Ms Peggy Carter's room." The receptionist was visibly shaking as she handed the room key over to Amythyst. Amythyst thanked her and promised that she wouldn't make a mess. In all honesty, Amythyst had no idea what she was going to walk into. She knew the name Peggy Carter. Anyone who was anyone in Britain knew who Peggy Carter was. Agent Carter had helped win the Second World War after the love of her life went down in a plane crash. Peggy Carter was a feminist icon, and a British icon. Girls grew up wanting to be Peggy Carter. There were vintage Agent Carter dolls that sold on the Internet for thousands of pounds. Peggy Carter was so important, and according to Merlin, so was Harry Hart.

 

Amythyst really hoped that the Assassin wasn't using Harry Hart as a way to get to Peggy Carter and kill her. That would be really fucking rude.

 

Amythyst found the room with the name "P. Carter" stamped on it, and ran a hand through her hair. She was dressed like a Kingsman agent, even though her suit was not bespoke. She even had glasses that allowed her to communicate with Merlin. She hadn't used them yet, but she figured that she would once she got Harry Hart somewhere safe (she would also bring Peggy Carter with her if necessary, because Amythyst was not above having heroes).

 

She knocked on the door and waited. About a minute later, and the door opened to reveal Harry Hart. There was a bandage covering his left eye and most of the left side of his face, and his hair had been given an uneven hospital buzz. Not the most attractive first impression, but Amythyst figured that he and the Galahad with blonde hair had been a thing. And Amythyst wasn't really into blokes besides. She smirked up at him and he looked down at her with his one brown eye. "Hello. Who are you, exactly?"

 

"Agent Harry Hart, nice to actually meet you up close and in person. My name's Amythyst McIntire and your mate Merlin thought it was a good idea to send me after your shot up ass. So here I am, and here you are, sans your left eye. Ready to go home, Agent Hart?" Amythyst asked, placing a hand on her hip and hoping to God that she looked somewhat cool. Harry nodded slowly, like he was trying to figure out if he knew her from somewhere. Amythyst dropped the smirk. "You don't know me. I'm one of the new agents... after what happened on V Day, Merlin had to expedite the whole initiation process, and since I'm new I'm still expendable."

 

Harry Hart nodded. The two of them stood in the doorway to Agent Carter's room without saying another word, each one figuring the other out. Amythyst didn't want to force this man to move, but she knew that they couldn't just stand in a retirement home for the rest of their lives. The Assassin was still out there. She might be looking for Harry Hart, and Amythyst was not going to fail her first mission just because some scary Russian myth couldn't back the fuck off. So she straightened up to her full height of five eight (she was wearing four inch heels), and said, "well, say your goodbyes, then. We have places to go."

 

Harry didn't say anything back to her, but he did turn around and go into the room again, towards Peggy Carter. Amythyst followed him in and closed the door behind them, letting her own curiousity about Peggy Carter overtake her instinct to guard the door and protect her target. She wanted to see the living legend while the legend was still alive. It seemed only appropriate. And besides, it wasn't as though Amythyst was going to get another chance to see Peggy Carter again. She wasn't going to waste it.

 

Peggy Carter looked incredibly old, laying there in a bed far too large. She stared blankly at Amythyst, her brown eyes unfocused. Harry sat down in the chair beside his aunt. "Aunt Peggy, this is Amythyst. She works with me, and she's going to take me back to London. It was nice seeing you."

 

"Amythyst? I was sure that your lady friend was named Sofia." Peggy said, her voice tired. Amythyst felt like she was listening in on a private conversation that she wasn't supposed to know about. People who specialised in espionage took pride in what little privacy they got, and were very defensive of their privacy. To encroach on it was the biggest insult one could make.

 

Harry closed his eyes. "No, that's another friend of mine. Kingsman has changed a lot since mom joined. Girls are more readily allowed."

 

So Kingsman was a patriarchal agency. All the more reason to get in it. Amythyst wondered if, aside from her, Lancelot was the only girl agent in the whole organisation. That would have to change. She and Lancelot could double team Merlin when she got back. They could force Merlin to consider more girls and less boys for positions.

 

"Well. I'm sorry Amythyst. Harry doesn't usually bring women to see me." There was a coy smile on Peggy Carter's face, and Amythyst saw the woman who had once graced every feminist poster in England. "He brings along a lot of men, though, and I can't blame him for it. He has good taste, at least."

 

"Aunt Peggy, we really must go." Harry said, and Peggy Carter weakly waved them off, only after Harry promised to visit her the next time he was in the country. Amythyst wondered how much Harry Hart actually visited his aunt. She didn't ask. It didn't seem appropriate at the moment. She just led Harry out of the building and towards the rental car she had picked up at the airport. Kingsman hadn't offered her a car. Apparently she really was expendable. Or they were more crippled than Merlin had let on back in London. The car was a basic silver sedan, with a suitcase in the trunk. Amythyst opened the passenger door for Harry. "Well, I guess we're off to London, aren't we?"

 

"Amythyst, there's something I need to tell you before we decide how soon we're returning to England." Harry stared her down with his one brown eye. "I... I don't remember much of the past thirty years of my life, and I barely remember the man you know as Merlin. I know that I am supposed to be his best friend and a great agent, but in my mind, I have only been in Kingsman for... five or six years."

 

"Well, shit." Amythyst said. "Maybe we shouldn't bring you back just yet. Maybe we should get somewhere where you can think some stuff through."

 

“That would be appreciated.” Harry said.

 


End file.
